The Road to Gosford
by Roztov
Summary: The Anton Chekhov story 'Overseasoned' told in a fantasy setting


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
1. The Road to Gosford (2377 words)

~In which Sir Nijelle travels to meet Miffkins and Candle and has an encounter with a carter.~

He had been delayed in the end, by various family matters. Matters of no great consequence  
but still demanding his attention. Although he did not admit it to himself the delays he had  
considered to be a blessing. He had never travelled outside of the kingdom before and had  
never had any great desire to.  
In the end, a message from Queen Benevolla enquiring as to why he had not set off yet was the  
impetus he needed to finally leave.  
And so it was with great trepidation he left Bannoffsmalle and travelled by coach to the port  
of Terhum to gain passage on a ship bound for Port Angel in Styke.  
The island kingdom of Elbonia was close to Styke on the mainland and ships were quite happy  
to make the passage even in the middle of winter.  
It took less than a week, but Sir Nijelle had been sea sick every day of it. Unusually for  
someone who lived on a fairly small island, he was a very poor sailor.

From Port Angel he was to meet his faithful squire and servant Joffery Miffkins who had already  
been on the mainland for the last month in search of a suitable guide for the rest of  
the journey.

Upon arrival at this huge bustling port, much bigger than Terhum, the significance of his  
undertaking slowly began to dawn on him.

He was to be a corespondent for the dowager Queen Benevolla of Elbonia. Mother of his  
sovereign King Oppola IV. As such he was to travel the mainland and send back reports to her  
on anything that took his fancy or interested him. He was, in other words, to be a travel  
writer, something he was pretty sure that had never existed until this moment.

He had chosen Ferron to be his first destination as it was known to be very far away and he  
loved very much the red wine that came by ship each summer. The barrels of wine always had  
pictures of tall and sunny mountains painted on them and even as a child he had daydreamed  
of what it must be like to wander these mountains. Elbonia boasted no peaks at all  
except for Mount Helsborg, which at one thousand feet tall was barely a hill.

Gazing across the bustling port as he descended from the ships deck he realised that he was  
now in a much more vibrant, and yet more dangerous part of the world.

He was almost immediately accosted by bawds and beggars before a gentleman addressed him in  
his native tongue and enquired if he was not Sir Nijelle Harlop Bane of Bannoffsmalle?  
Replying in the affirmative the gentleman introduced himself as Mr Forshem, merchant, who  
was going to board the same ship on the return leg back to Elbonia.  
Miffkins had asked him to pass a letter which Mr Forshem did and them promptly bid him good  
day.

Bane opened the letter at once and read,

'My Lord, I am afraid I cannot meet you at Port Angel as I am currently in Gosford. I have  
secured a guide. Please ask at the Paldum Inn (the best establishment in Port Angel) for  
Mr Harmos whom I have employed to take you to Gosford to meet me. When you arrive at Gosford  
enquire at the Nog's Head Tavern.'  
The letter was signed 'Your humble servant, Joffery Miffkins'

'Where do you want this guv?' asked a stevedore who was manhandling Bane's sea chest off the ship.  
'Ah, the Paldum Inn my good man please.' , Bane replied in his perplexity.

The next day Bane had expected to meet Mr Harmos first thing in the morning but instead a lad  
brought a message to him that the carter had been delayed until the afternoon and that begging  
your lordships forgiveness sir, they would set off a soon as Harmos became available and stay the night  
in a tavern along the way.  
Bane was a little disappointed in this. Gosford was the capital of this region, and it was no more  
than forty miles from the port and so Bane reasonably expected to reach it by nightfall the same day.  
Now the journey would take two days.

When Mr Harmos did turn up, without any explanation at all as to why he was late, it was already well  
past noon and most of the short winter day had already been lost.

Bane was to be further dismayed. For one the conveyance he was to take was no coach, it was a simple  
peasants cart! Noblemen in Elbonia did simply not travel in the back of cart like a farm hand.  
They used the post coaches or their own private carriages. If it was in his nature to do so he would be  
getting ready to severely berate Miffkins for this indignity upon meeting his wayward servant again.  
It wasn't his nature though, indeed, he had never beaten a servant, much to the amusement of  
his peers. In fact he found it impossible to be critical of anyone at all, most likely this was  
because his father had been the most frightful of men.

Bane thought things could not get any worse until he saw who would be driving him. Harmos was  
dark skinned and dark haired. He had a massive black beard and looked ever inch like a pirate  
or a brigand. He wore a long dark purple cloak, which signified that he had once been a coachman,  
although had he known this Bane would have probably surmised that Harmos had killed a genuine  
coachman to gain it.  
Besides the cloak Harmos wore gold earrings in each ear and a wide floppy hat known commonly  
as a 'pitcher' in the region.  
'Good morning m'lud. I'll have the boys get yer chest on board and we will set off directly!'  
declared the carter.  
Bane nodded mutely.  
'Ye'd best ride up front with me m'lud. The seat is the only thing sprung.'  
Bane dutifully clambered onboard and within minutes they had set off.

It took no small while to get out of the port. With its narrow winding streets there was barely  
enough room for two carts to pass each other. But eventually they made it out of the east gate  
and into the countryside beyond.

And so for the rest of the day they clattered along the rugged Gosford road, following the  
banks of the river Gos. To the north was farmlands and to the south were the Rhoneland Marshes.  
This part of Styke had once been the kingdom of Rhoneland and Gosford had been its capital.  
Now though it was a principality of the kingdom of Styke. The capital of Styke was Timu, a city  
much further to the south-east beyond the Askbakar mountains.

The scenery was pretty unremarkable except for the looming presence of the mountains to the  
east. Gosford itself nestled at the foot of them, but they would not see the city until  
tomorrow. Bane had to fend of a sudden bout of homesickness. He had only been away from Elbonia for  
four days but already he was missing it. The imposing mountains to the east looked strange and alien  
to him.

Harmos sat silently as the cart rambled on, the old dray that pulled them occasionally shaking  
its shaggy head giving Bane a start each time it did so.

Bane despite himself, began to get more and more nervous. This man was surely a bandit! How  
could it have happened? Had Miffkins really sent him? Or had this man killed the real Harmos  
to take his place, so that he could drive Bane off somewhere quiet and kill him?  
That could perhaps have been the reason for the long delay?

Every so often Bane got the urge to look over his shoulder at his sea chest. It contained a good  
deal of things he considered valuable. His collection of history books for one, and a gold  
hilted dagger his father had gave him when he had been a boy.  
He could not thing what was worse, being killed, or his precious books being used as fire lighters  
by a band of insensitive robbers.

Still, it was the middle of the afternoon, and the road was busy enough. Mostly it was peasants walking  
along the road gathering wood or fishing in the river. Occasionally another coach or cart would rattle past  
on business of its own. Despite his growing fear he did not yell out for help.

As the evening wore on and as his posterior grew more numb he had time enough to study his  
travelling companion. Mr Harmos seemed to be content to chew on his whiskers and gaze out  
across his horses ears onto the road ahead. Every so often he hauked up something nasty and  
spat it out onto the dirt.

It began to grow darker, it was winter after all, and Mr Harmos lit a lantern and hung it from  
a pole over the cart.  
The road was pretty much deserted now and a chill wind was blowing. It began to snow gently.

By this time Bane was mortified. He was sure that Harmos meant to kill him and was just waiting  
for the opportunity. How could anyone who looked like him, so uncouth and hairy, not be a  
villain and a murderer? It was pitch black now and anything could happen in the darkness. The only  
light he could see anywhere came from their own lantern which cast a small circle of light into a world  
of darkness. The well kept road was a moving blur that arrived from darkness in front of them and  
disappeared again behind, after a brief period of illumination.

There was not even stars or a moon as clouds still covered the sky.  
Apart from the lantern there was nothing but darkness. If the lantern was to be snuffed out he would not  
be able to see his hand in front of his face. And what then? He would not be able to see the knife that  
went for his heart either! Bane trembled into his coat. And then he would be snuffed out just as easily  
as the lantern and his adventure would have ended on the second day his feet had touched the mainland.

Just then he hit upon an idea. Perhaps if he made out that he would be too much for Harmos to handle?  
He felt he had nothing to loose at this stage and perhaps a display of bravado might save him.

Clearing his throat, for he had not spoken three words all day he said,

'You know, ahem, I was once robbed by brigands on the Oban Highway in Elbonia.'  
Anyone from Elbonia would have known this was a lie. There had been no bandits on the Oban road for the  
last hundred years.

Harmos remained silent.

'But as I always carry four loaded horse pistols on me at all time, I was able to shoot two dead and  
scare the rest off!' Bane declared, another lie.

Harmos chewed his whiskers and shook some snow off his cloak.

The pirate isn't even bothered! thought Bane, I must make more of this.

'I have them loaded and ready to fire in my chest right now if you care to look. No?'

Harmos remained silent.

Not knowing what else to do Bane continued, 'Yes, I am known as a terrible butcher back in Elbonia. I  
have killed countless men in duels. Three this year alone! Sword or pistol it is all the same to me!'  
Under normal conditions Bane would have been blushing beetroot. He never told a lie, and besides if he was  
known for anything at all in Elbonia it was for being a milk-sop mummies boy.

Harmos gave him an odd look from the corner of his eye.

Perhaps this could be working! Perhaps he thinks this game is not worth the candle, thought Bane.  
Getting carried away he carried on,  
'Yes, just last month I was in a sword duel with another lord, from Polhom I believe, anyway he had not  
liked the way I had looked at his sister at one of the Queens royal balls and had challenged me on the spot!  
Well, it was terrible bloodshed! Perhaps he did not know I am the best swordsman in the kingdom? Why - I  
can best any man, even with my eyes shut!'  
Bane was beginning to like the direction his tongue was carrying him in,  
'I tell you this, if that lantern was to be extinguished for example then I could just as easily meet any  
challenger in utter darkness and defeat them as if it were the middle of the day!'

He even managed a small nervous laugh, 'I like nothing better than to run my sword though a foe, or to  
shoot a man dead, be he a lord or a bandit!'

Bane was about to launch into another fantastic tale of his deadliness when suddenly Harmos leapt from the  
cart and ran off into the darkness shrieking,  
'Save me! Have mercy! He means to kill me!'

Completely taken aback, it dawned on Bane what had happened. This was indeed the real Mr Harmos. Despite his  
sinister appearance he was just a carter and Bane's fevered imaginings alone had turned him into a bandit!  
Bane had terrified the poor man.

'No wait, hold up there!', he cried as he too stepped down from the cart and attempted to follow the  
carter into the darkness.

It was quite some time, involving a lot of shouting and running around in the dark, before they established  
that neither of them were bandits or murderers and had nothing to fear from the other. Harmos still could  
not quite believe that Bane was not the killer he had made himself out to be but agreed to make the rest of  
the trip as long as no harm befell him.

The rest of the journey to Gosford passed without incident, but Bane did begin to wonder what the rest of  
his experiences on Nillimandor were likely to be like.


End file.
